Serpent Rose
by goddessa39
Summary: A secret organization is underway to fight Voldemort as well as undermined the wizarding world and Dumbledore. Secrets in the Shadows, those forgotten and forsaken will take control to stop the true evils of the world as a grey light. The Serpent Rose soc
1. Prologue

_**'A/N:** This story is discontinued! I am posting it here after erroneously posting it under another story. I got so many e-mails that I have decided this will be a challenge! I dare anyone to finish this story. I couldn't, so I abandoned my handwritten chapter notes and outlines. I've dug them up, so anyone wanting to see a summary of my notes can go to my Yahoo! Group listed on my profile. This is a first chapter challenge, feel free to ADD OR SUBTRACT from this AU fic. _

_This AU fic assumes Harry to be slightly more abused than in cannon, shorter (naturally, not all from abuse), and decidedly darker. In this challenge Harry can be strait or gay. I have him pegged as queer because that was part of an idea I had that got so tangled in the plot that I decided to make him strait later on in my notes, but the original opening I typed was never changed. _

_I wash my hands of this monster, and submit it for your own use!' _

_ -Sofia Dragon _

**Title: **

The Serpent Rose

**Disclaimer: **

I only own most of this fic. The challenge and first chapter (the prologue is mine) came from Sofia Dragon.

**Cannon: **

Harry Potter

**Character: **

Sneaky Slytherin Dark but not Evil Harry/Ginny. Manipulative Dumbledore. Strong Neville. etc.

**Pairings: **

Harry/Ginny, Luna/Neville, Hermione/Ron, Fred/Katie Bell/George/Angelina Johnson, etc…

**Genre: **

Dark/Adventure

**Timeline: **

Post AU Ootp

**Summary: **

A secret organization is underway to fight Voldemort as well as undermined the wizarding world and Dumbledore. Secrets in the Shadows, those forgotten and forsaken will take control to stop the true evils of the world as a grey light. The Serpent Rose society is of a new era.

"S. Serpitongue. S." from human

"B. Beastspeak. B." from human

_"S. Serpitongue. S." from animal _

_"B. Beastspeak. B." from animal _

_"adligo funis, vinculum":_ to make cord, imprisonment

**Serpent Rose  
Prologue **

**Unknown**

The streets of England reeked with the infestation of sickness and death with the unabated sweat stains filling the air. Scavenging rats crawled through the gravel paths between the abandoned buildings and the random trash cans in the alleys. The crescent moon was waning leaving little light available to only passing strangers who knew what to look for. There was much shadow in the barely lightened pathways of the slums.

A young man, young in body but aged in mind, cascaded in the shadows like water of simple stones in a stream. Quiet. Silent. Peaceful. Determined. Maneuvering easily over debris in the steps he was to take, he watched.

Those who knew what he did talked of him as "Shadow" for that was what he was. Someone always remembered but never talked about, a distant memory always on the back of one's mind. He was feared and respected. No one knew him if he didn't want them to. When he was part of this current occupation, just one of the odd-jobs he worked for his association, he held a budding almost pure black rose in the right pocket with a violently dark green stem; one of the few colors other then black one might see if he was to step out into the light, one might notice the edges of the rose petals that were a ruby red. It was a part of his look as was the nearly solid black form curled around his neck as if it was a scarf, a scarf drafted around him as a piece of his anatomy. The ruby red part of the nearly pitch black rose stood out only when catching direct bright light.

The black snake fit in. Both coexisted in this rotten world, together, as one figure.

The snake's silky scales were pure black. There would be no other color in the light it did not wish. It wasn't twenty foot long, just under. Constricting its scales, the skin pulled and pushed to lengthen and strengthen or pull together and look altogether part of the furniture, look ordinary in this fucked up world in which Shadow's cards had been dealt with a bad amount of luck within the worst, and handled in better terms.

Ahead was a man, a dark suit that those of professions hidden behind lies and death wore. At the edge of the alley, he was traveling to the canal in the area to make a deal with a boss of his. He had no real impression because it was his job not to. All he was to do was deliver the money and then his own boss would have whatever it was he was paying for. He would do so and never think of this again. He was an in-between guy.

As if sensing a meal the snake around Shadow's shoulders looked up. If one was watching they would have seen familiar green eyes reminiscent of the Avada Kedavra curse. But if a watcher was to contemplate it, there would be no doubt how deadly the silky serpent was with scales the seconded as skin and didn't bump in touch unless to choose. Its head bobbed around until the rest of its body wasn't as tightly wound around the silent Shadow. It became apparent that the snake was not a snake but a silky serpent when it wasn't so much using the human body as leverage for the trip down, but for a warm place and a familiar fiend that helped to sway its cunning heart.

The man walked confidently now, waiting to reach the end of the alley. A dark brown suitcase handle hung the case from his hand and he sauntered. He reached a shadow until the flickering light at the side allowed him to see a brick wall stopping his acceleration. He stomped and cursed and fought the urge to hit the case against it. He assumed it was money inside but one low person in any hierarchy like himself could never be to sure. So he cursed aloud and stomped again as he turned. He didn't know why he suddenly went still but something in him crawled up his spine and his back rose enough. The chills had taken their effect it seems.

There was a low key hissing though the man neither herd nor felt the vibrations that Shadow felt and understood. Like an internal Morse code he smiled and allowed the serpent to move forward. The serpent had small wings on its back that disappeared when in use like a Snitch bird's own would in a game of Quidditch until it came silkily into view.

Eyes trying to focus on the dark in front of him, his mind felt as if there was something solid blocking his view of completing his job. He tried to assume a threatening stance before he thought that was silly and relaxed his posture. He was imagining things. If he heard anything like a snake then he was simply hearing the screeching electricity attempt to not quit in the failing street lamp light.

Until two figures made themselves known, stepping out of the dark enlightened areas.

"Who the hell are you!" demanded the suitcase man, voice tightening out of fear that he failed to hide and failed to notice that he didn't hide.

Shadow sauntered in much like the manner the man had earlier before he had noticed the bricked up wall. Mocking the man, looking at him like a child or a piece of meet. Not wanting him in any real way but knowing he was better than the man. The business man swallowed the chill under his skin and the goosebumps that followed the earlier wave as it climbed up his spine. It told him that nothing good could come from this.

Acting out of fear that anyone would have had while unknowingly facing this Shadow man, the man's eyes blazed in anger, the fear showing without his will or knowledge. "Who are you!" he tried to get answers. "What do you want, a puny guy like you," Shadow wasn't puny but the man was working on the assumption that he himself was scary and the man in front of him would fall on any battle.

As if hearing these thoughts, the Shadow man chuckled amused. His serpent was crawling around the man in a wide berth, circling the man, watching the man unaware that he himself was prey. As if sensing a predator that could easily swallow him up whole without a drop of sweat the man unconsciously dropped the suitcase and his eyes snapped towards the slithering serpent.

"Snake! Think you could scare me with a little animal."

Apparently he had never watched the Discovery Channel and was unaware that many snakes held poison in their bite, and though this black beauty was not really a snake, the serpent body of the animal raised its head to show deadly fangs nearly dripping with poison that burnt when it touched the ground like acid through tissue paper. It steamed like the whistle blow of a kettle and the man in the suit fought against the involuntary urge to loose control of his bowels.

And he was utterly stupid in his knowledge of battle. He was like a grunt figure, but Shadow took humor in this job as he knew too many fools he wished it could be.

But the grunt finally did realize when he was cornered. His bowels gave him no choice this time. Though it mind have not been seen, the Shadow man that he wouldn't admit but still terrified him, rubbed his nose, the scent of new warm urine an acidic no-no to his sensitive nostrils. The serpent gave a sharp hiss as it turned its head away for a quick second and then seemed to glare at the business man.

Some more hissing and the man went pale though unsure why. In his quickly failing mind the man had a thought. 'It was almost like the snake was talking to him.' he though.

"S. _Hee isss poor ssstock. I wisssh to sssnack. Hee will do no good tooosss anyone, and I am feeling the urgee toooosss feeed. He isss a disssgracsse to your specssiesss. S."_ the serpent hissed this aloud in its own language, parts of the words falling longer with the tongue she had. Though she had grown up to speak almost humanly even with her own ancestral genes, she was anticipating something she knew her bonded would allow her, so her words were long.

The Shadow man heard this mentally. It was not the famed Parseltongue that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had, but Serpitongue, the real gift of Salazar Slytherin learnt by his heirs and a few descendants, in which no one really knew. Serpitongue was the speak of anything with serpent blood running through them, whether snake, dragon, or hybrid. A single drop of serpent blood gave an animal this speak of choice. One might wonder if the Slytherin founder had performed a ritual or something to receive this blood. In truth, Salazar was gifted this by his bonded animal, a hybrid small dragon about the size of a Great Dane when fully grown.

Of course, most hybrid were difficult to breed altogether; that's why basilisks are so rare and horse-bodied once-humans like the many that lived in the forbidden forest were long ago parted from the wizarding society.

The man's last thoughts became the very ones of the snake looking like it was 'speaking'. He never saw he fangs elongating and coming towards him in slow motion while also practically in the speed of light. Before he knew it he was thrown to the floor by the heavy body of the serpent with nearly-invisible wings. He never had the chance to scream before the serpent had bitten into him and lodged the poison into his blood system, quickly slowing its heart to the slowest pace without killing him. The man was poised, paralyzed. And he had no chance.

Shadow watched with his disturbing glowy eyes as his second bonded swallowed the human male. It took some hacking of its make-shift throat, but she got it down smoothly. His friendly serpent seemed to shake as if in cardiac arrest before it's body elongated as fast and smooth as its fangs had earlier until it was well over fifty feet long. She seemed to stretch as if basking in the quickly failing light before doing the opposite. Within a few minutes his friend had gone back to her preferred size and wiggled to her bonded human.

"S. _My tummy isss fulfilled now. Home? S." _she asked, speaking of going to her nesting grounds in the area of an estate that house part of his own running association.

He laughed and reached for the silky serpent with his left hand while his right hand played with the rose in his pocket budding with life. When the serpent was curling around him unseen in the bulk of comfortable dark clothes, he smiled at the completed job as he placed the shrunken suitcase in his pocket and topped it off with the plant edge a good friend had grown for him.

Above him nestled in the shadows he was aptly named for was his first bonded a bird that mothered him so. She watched this and for a moment her soft blue eyes flashed the unnatural Avada Kedavra green the serpent's own remained. When she was sure that her two friends were safe, she flew ahead, watching for anyone that wished to ambush them. Her sharp eyes honed for preying found nothing dangerous ahead that night.

"B. Happy huntings, love. B." her bonded greeted her.

She hooted down towards them as she arrived back and took her place on Shadow's shoulder hidden beneath a woven invisibility/notice-me-not fixed to only allow a few to see her at all. She hooted once more, "S. _safe ahead_, S.", in Serpitongue, and nestled to sleep on her perch she had come to think of as home. He walked back to a safe place. A few magic words and wards and they were safe as he traveled by, foot, tweaked floo, and a newer type of portkey to their HQ hidden and unplotable with ancient wards.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 1

**Serpent Rose  
Chapter 2**

**Number 4 Privet Dr.**

Harry James Potter lived in number four Privet Drive with his Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Cousin Dudley Dursley. He had lived there since he was fifteen months old, roughly now fifteen years, and for the most part his life had been tolerable, barely.

His Aunt and Uncle were very normal people living in a very normal house where nothing extraordinary would even think of happening; in their own eyes at least. After all, child abuse is quite common, though they didn't see it as such. The boy was a worthless freak who had been abandoned on their doorstep and it was only out of the goodness of their hearts that they took him in and kept him from burdening the rest of society. Harry didn't get much to eat, and his clothing was always old, oversized hand-me-downs, but he had an inner light that refused to go out. After all, Harry was a very special boy living an extraordinary life, not that most people would have noticed.

Now, plenty of people knew he was a wizard, that he had fought Lord Voldemort five times in his short life, that he was an excellent Seeker, and that he was top of his class in Defense against the Dark Arts. At least, most of the wizarding world knew those things. He was The Boy Who Lived, their eventual savior for a second time. To the sheep of that sectioned off world, they had a right to know about him.

Then there were the things not many people knew at all. He was 1.44m tall (4'9") and not naturally likely to get much taller before his growth spurt ended. He hoped for 1.52m (5'). Those were the things about his height he thought of at least, the constant glamour hiding the much better effects thanks to the numerous nutrition potions he kept himself dieted on.

He was not a late bloomer who would shoot up to a respectable height in the next three years; he was an abused child that hadn't gotten enough food before the age of ten to ensure proper development later on. And that's where he was thankful for his magic. The nutrition potions would allow him at least a respectable 6'4" half an inch shorter then Ron Weasley.

He had nearly starved to death at age six when his Aunt decided that out-performing her beloved Dudley in school was a serious offence. He had no doubt he would have died if his magic hadn't been running through his veins, in his blood. He loved classical and rock music as well as Alternative and Country. He was a male with average male tendencies and then some. His greatest fear was a Dementor at midnight; his friends slumped at its feet.

He took comfort in drawing a silver snake twined around a rose.

It was this last one that had the most complicated, soul shattering, and scandalous explanation behind it. Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Golden Boy, was a member of a secret organization, nearly a whole different society. The Serpent's Rose, just thinking about their name made him feel safer and secure! It was odd the way a person could forget something so important until he had need of it. Or maybe that was just another of Harry's personal quirks.

Now the old stories made so much sense. Tales of children watching their families slaughtered, seeing parents and siblings being tortured or changed into animals before their deaths, came back as if he's heard them yesterday instead of nearly a decade ago. He had put them off once, even though most of the older kids did not. He thought that they were using scare tactics to keep everyone in line, giving a greater reason then mere survival for their alliance, not that many of them had any ambition against it. A mythic tale about their origins that was set 'just a short time before you lot were born' so they could be bound by something deeper then bodily need, their aching bellies begging for sustenance.

The wild stories explained why there were so many orphans, when there hadn't been before. It explained why now there were enough of them to band together, enough of them to build a society where they weren't second class, enough of them to survive on their own terms in a world hidden in the larger points of society.

They made their own symbol of the great evil that created them, their own symbol. This was a symbol of life and protection. The snake came from the Dark Mark, though they called it the Deadly Stars. They would become like their enemy, like the snake, in order to survive. Thorns from a rose protected their snake and supported it bodily, and the rose itself was beauty and life. Quite simplistic, but what else could come from frightened eight year olds? Personally, the brilliant red rose he always imagined in his mind reminded him of his mother.

Or maybe just of his blood.

Wherever it started, and whoever first came up with the general idea, the people working the society didn't know who was part of anything different. The now twenty-something year old founders had left ages ago for either death, adventure, or into the large world to bank their hidden world; those left behind had carried on in order to survive. The oldest of their group was nineteen, and lived in London. Since he had only been four when Voldemort had been temporarily taken care of, he didn't remember much, but still believed that something had happened. The wild tales were still told to the youngest of them when they joined.

Harry knew their would be more joining them soon, just as soon as Tom decided it was time start killing families again.

The horrible acts were committed by 'Sculls' according to the stories, but Harry was sure they were Death Eaters. The Sculls wore masks and black cloaks. They came and went by magic, used wands and other terrible weapons. They were part of a not-so-secret group that killed anyone who found out too much about them. The 'Scull' symbol was a snake coming out of a skull's mouth.

Harry might not be as astoundingly brilliant as Hermione, but he was street-smart and survival oriented, persistent behind the world's back. If it looks like a duck, smells like a duck, and acts like a duck: it is either a duck, or someone under Polyjuice. The Serpent's Rose would be willing to fight tooth and nail, or fang and thorn as they often said, to protect themselves and those like them. The network of communication and free flowing channels of food, clothing, and other necessities needed to remain intact or many abused and homeless children would die.

Harry used to wonder why people didn't notice their activities. How else could a three year old street rat survive to become a ten year old thief, thirteen year old student, or eighteen year old worker? How could these kids learn to read, write, add, multiply, and even build and repair homes before they went to high school? He knew now that he had seen it for himself that people simply did not want to believe a problem existed. Their precious normality was more important to them then anything else, and they believed the government programs worked. Just like the witches and wizards would rather believe that Dumbledore and Harry were lying about the Dark Lord, and never mind that dead body Harry had come back with.

Since Sirius' death, Harry had decided that people in general could snuff it, and he didn't care. He had his list, and that small group of people he would care about, besides his Rose Serpents at any rate. It made things easier, and was much simpler then he had expected. After all, wasn't he supposed to be a great caring savior who loved all of humanity or some crap like that? He supposed he could add that to the list of fallacies about Harry Potter: tall, handsome, charismatic, attention seeking, and immortal.

He wondered which divine being, if any such thing existed, took credit for giving him a second life in which he was important without being famous for something he couldn't have helped. He supposed he ought to thank them. Unfortunately, there were more important things to be worrying about at the moment then seeming impolite to a creature that might not exist.

* * *

**Number 4 Privet Dr.**

"BOY! Get up and make breakfast!" Harry woke suddenly to his Uncle's bellow.

"Coming, Uncle." Harry answered automatically, the same way he always had. The good intentions of the Order of the Phoenix had made his life much worse then it had been in some time. Good Intentions pave the way to Hell after all, or hadn't Dumbledore learned such a thing. He guessed not, as he was still at this insufferable hellhole. Uncle Vernon watched him as he wrote his first letter, made sure it said he was home safe and sound, and laid down the law as far as the post was concerned. He would write every three days, give the letter to his Uncle, and his Uncle would send his beloved Hedwig to his friends from her new home in the tool shed. Other then that, things were to 'Get back to normal around here, and you'll be glad for it you little freak!'

_I can't do this again, and the Serpents need me too much to spend all summer locked up. _Harry thought to himself. _Last July I spent almost all my time running letters and packages on their way from London to South Hampton and back, and doing other... business._ It had been tricky, maneuvering around away from Number 4 Privet Dr. hoping to hope that the Weasleys wouldn't come to save him, though he was thankful for second year.

Harry paused his wonderings long enough to get the bacon, eggs, and other fixings ready. Aunt Petunia thought that the diet had been fine, and Harry would be the first admit that his cousin looked great compared to two years ago, but Dudley's personality hadn't changed in the least. He had whined that dieting all school year was enough, and Petunia had agreed instantly. Harry certainly didn't get any more food then he ever had, but he was expected to cook again.

_Gives me more opportunity to pinch food for the Serpents, heaven knows we need all we can get. With all the snack food around, and Dudley's appetite as a scapegoat, those kids in South Hampton can get something fresher then beef jerky from London and cereal from Alfold _Harry was exaggerating of course; there was a lot of food going to South Hampton these days. _They need it, the orphanage blew up and they have no where to go. The bureaucrats are dragging their feet through the miles of red tape as usual, but with the fire at Sand Hurst in May and Raleigh's heating system blowing back in February, there are too many kids moving in too many directions, and not enough beds to sleep in._

Harry served his relatives and sat down, waiting to be given his share. _If I'm locked up in here I won't get any news, muggle or wizarding. At least the Rose Post lets me know what is happening on the streets. That's settled, now how can I break out? The lock picking kit is in the cupboard, locked. I'm in my room, also locked. _Vernon was droning on about some meeting or other he had to attend. Harry heard the words 'overnight' and 'London' in the same sentence, and tuned in to hear if the odious man would make him wash the car.

"…traffic will be quite a beast. Take me an hour to drive across London during rush hour, but there's nothing for it I suppose."

"Did you take the car to the shop to get tuned up, dear? It wouldn't do to have trouble with it in London." Petunia nagged.

"Yes, and that reminds me… Boy, I want you to wash my car after I get home today." Vernon's multiple chins waggled as he used his most commanding tone. "And do a good job of it; polish the wheel rims and the bumper."

"Yes, Uncle. Can I have something to eat now?" His relatives must not have noticed his tone or ignored it properly because it was a mix between sarcasm and uncaring shrugging.

"Here, eat that and get back upstairs." Harry pinched the scraps offered to him and ran back upstairs as quickly as he could. He knew there would be dishes to wash later on, and carpets to vacuum if he hadn't missed his guess, but if he could snag some quiet time to do some serious thinking he could come up with a suitably Slytherin plan by ten after five.

At ten after five Vernon Dursley arrived home after a day at Grunnings. Harry had washed dishes, clothes, floors, and windows. He had also devised a simple but elegant plan that would ditch both his Uncle and whoever was tailing him from the Order. It would also put him in the perfect position to help the Serpents, a definite plus with all the orphanage attacks lately. It had to do largely with the formal looking owl wearing a Gringotts crest that had flown in right after his uncle left for work.

_Tom Riddle is getting back at a terrible system, while we work around it...

* * *

_

...If you want to see the banner for this, then my photobucket site is htmled on my author page.


	3. Chapter 2

**Serpent Rose  
Chapter 2 **

**Hogwarts, Deputy Headmistress/Transfigurations Professor's Office**

She sat at her burgundy escritoire diskette she had transfigured long ago, perfectly fitting to herself and only herself. Built in charms allowed for certain waivers to be handled. There was a balance that made her comfortable in the burgundy wood. Slowly, a dark purple glass with an iced male smile showed, and she turned it over in her hands, her mind elsewhere.

The old man had changed since she had known him back when she was fresh out of school. It was like jolly old Santa Clause suddenly turning into the secretive batman with a mask of Barney and a soul of the grinch. He still laughed and joked but now there was an air to everything. And she felt that it was suffocating her after so long.

Maybe he was turning into the Joker.

He had mentored her in the art of Transfiguration, and soon become Headmaster getting her to take over his spot for teaching while he moved up. She had been quite good friends with him, both being Gryffindors and fighting so hard for the defeat of Grindewald and then Voldemort. He had come back from the killing of Grindewald a changed man, she remembered. But he had eventually gotten over it. She assumed this change was just that sliver of hidden guilt that plagued him.

About ten years before Voldemort showed his face, not of a quiet and smart student but of a man with a need for revenge against society, she found Albus was still changed though, stuck in some funk that he had never gotten out of. She had watched as he became more secretive and controlling, felt the puppet strings attach themselves into a web of intrigue that she would never see straight through. It had been disappointing, but she had never left him. He had been a good friend and one of the few that she could relax with.

But she had watched as he placed Harry Potter into a house of Lily Potter nee Evan's muggle relatives. And they were as horrible as she thought, no, worse, though she rarely found traces off of the boy himself. He was smarter then his grades reflected, she knew. She had talked with Remus Lupin about it once, and both had come out later contemplating Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter.

An hour later she was back at HQ using Grimuald Place. Another of her favorite students was dead and she cursed allowing them into this war. But it wasn't really her fault she knew. There was nothing she could have done to persuade James or Lily or her other deceased or comatose old students away. It wasn't really her business anyway. She watched her friend slowly pace the supposedly empty meeting room in Number 12 Grimuald Place and wondered why he did this. She silently prayed that nothing was seriously wrong and that everything could be right in the world if only for a moment. But as it often happened, her wishing was for naught as Fate worked in odd ways.

When she got back to her perfect desk she took the old purple glass, a gift years ago from Albus, and she threw it against the wall. It cracked the wall and the Transfiguration Professor did nothing to clean up the mess. She just sat there at her desk, staring ahead somewhere that no one else could see.

**Privet Drive **

He didn't agree with what the Headmaster was doing. But if he spoke up, Albus would take him off of Watch so the werewolf wouldn't let things take a hold of himself and cause problems, he knew. But oh, he so wanted to complain about Harry's muggle relatives. They abhorred magic, Harry, and anything around Harry. Couldn't Albus see that?? So what about some wards. If that blood magic was centered on wards then he couldn't believed there was any there. There was no love in that household except for the whale boy and food.

But if he complained then he would be sent elsewhere to take care of something and he would have little word on Harry save for the uncommon letter sent to him. This was the only way he could protect Harry, and he would do so with his life.

He glared at his watch partner across the street. He wondered when Albus would realize that Severus "Snivellus" Snape would never mix with any person by the name or close to Potter?

_Directions: Find Potter. Find Snape. Find mixer and mixing tool (Albus). Mix. Run for cover-**KABOOM! **_

Remus snorted at the mental image of powder Snape and powder Harry causing explosions. And then he unwillingly got the picture of Albus-Powder joining them and Harry and Severus facing off with a sheepish Dumbledore in-between them with that annoying twinkle, totally oblivious with what was occurring.

No, getting Harry and Snape together was just begging for trouble. It wasn't to say that Harry did things like his father; in fact, he did things more like his mother. But the Death Eater double agent couldn't get over everything James and the other marauders had put him through. Severus Snape was a Potions genius. He had nothing against him there, but he couldn't teach a dog to bark.

A wave of despair that clung to him washed over the early graying man and he glared at the horse faced woman yelling at his charge. Harry was slaving his way in the garden again, completely ignoring his aunt to the best of his ability, which was pretty good. In fact, Harry didn't seem to hear her-it was as if the woman wasn't even yelling at him.

The frown on Harry's face was a permanent fixture on his face since Sirius's death save for the uncommon look that Remus liked to refer to as _Scary Harry _in which his best friend's son, his godson, looked positively frightening. Remus had decided immediately not to get on Harry's bad side then. He would rather face Voldemort thank you very much. And then there was _Blank Harry _in which his face seemed to go slack and the boy showed absolutely no sign of emotion. He looked dead. When he saw that face for the first time he had nearly jumped up and smacked him to make sure that he wasn't dead.

Remus felt a nig of pity and then a nig of envy for Harry as he watched the yelling spout from the muggle's mouth. How he could ignore such horrid noise, the werewolf could not really understand. But then he had lived there since his parents died, he thought. Now his anger was back.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a neighbor lady walk out to her car and then glare at Petunia Dursley of Number Four Privet Dr. His lips twitched and a slight gleam of a smile appeared on his face for a second. Petunia Dursley wasn't as _normal _as she liked to believe it seemed. But then, muggles did like to ignore what they couldn't handle.

Most of his anger was lost again but in the back of his head he held it firm. If any harm came to his cub because of his relatives, she would regret it. They would all regret it. The anger came back.

The werewolf growled slightly as he heard a certain snarling man with oily hair mumble, "spoiled little brat, just like his worthless father." His eyes yellowed for a second in rage. Couldn't Snape _see _what was going on right in front of their eyes?

Later, he would wonder about Harry's smell. As a werewolf, he communicated smell with persons. It helped find people and see who they were much of the time. But he currently just put it off as an effect of the food the cub ate. They were nothing but scraps and he sighed inwardly, thankfully that Molly at least sent him food.

Inwardly, he cursed Albus for putting him there. He cursed Snape for ignoring it and being so blind. He cursed Harry's friends for not helping. He cursed Sirius and then himself for repeatedly not taking Harry away with them. He was their cub and he was being harmed.

With a frown, he wondered when the Order of the Phoenix had started to resemble Voldemort and the megalomaniac's precious Death Eaters. Lupin sat back against his tree using his natural stillness as a werewolf to hide his movements from sight, settling in his calming place and breathing in, centering himself. According to Snape's information on Voldemort and Albus's warning, there were Death Eaters searching Surrey. They were looking everywhere for the Boy-Who-Lived.

He wondered briefly how Voldemort pictured Harry James Potter as.


	4. Chapter 3

**Serpent Rose**

**Chapter 3**

**The Burrow**

Ginevra Molly Weasley had a knack for getting into trouble, which she jokingly blamed Harry for rubbing off on her in the Chamber Incident, or the 'Diary thingy' from Harry's mouth. She wondered when her crush on Harry Potter had turned to love for him as a man does a woman and then just turned around thanking the Fates when that love had been returned. She wouldn't look that gift horse in the mouth. .

She knew her best friend, Luna Lovegood, _saw _things. She knew that Luna had a big crush on one Neville Longbottom and shook her head at how he was being as clueless about it as Ron and Hermione had been for their own feelings for each other.

She sighed and thought back to the past.

After the Chamber Incident, Ginny had changed. She pictured her visage in the past and saw a happy but oblivious little girl with flower crowns and dancing always being a part other foot steps. That had changed, but she had quickly allowed that visage to remain for her family. She didn't wish to worry them. After all, it was her fault that she had started writing in that diary after all of the times he father had warned his children of things that you didn't know where its mind was.

Harry had walked her out of the chamber and then piggy backed her to the hospital wing where she literally saw a mask of fatigue fall over him when the Headmaster had come in. It was like he had suddenly switched faces. He had pretended to be asleep in his own bed as he hid his arm, and then the old man had just passed them over and left when Madame Pomfrey shooed him out because they were asleep.

One thing had led to another and by the end of her year, things had looked up. He had watched her for a while, seen her as she wasn't able to fully cope with what had happened without another understanding. They were nearly inseparable thanks to his revealing of a secret society of those... not so normal. The Serpent Rose society was made of various people who faced unfair childhoods and truly cared about the children who were starving on the streets. Now, her own childhood has been just dandy but the possession by the diary had changed her outlook on life. Things that had worried her before suddenly didn't matter anymore. She took happiness out of the most simple things. She shouldn't be worried about the future of the forest and one particular race of sprout when she could be building an electric fence to keep out the cutters and allow the foliage its space.

It was Harry who had taught her to understand and look behind the lines. He taught her to see what was under a mask, find the hidden meanings and the subliminal messages behind masters of Legilimens and manipulation. Harry taught her how to hide and to live while doing so. He taught her how to use the Parseltongue ability to her best ability without flinching; doing it so quietly that non-speakers would be unable to notice if something was going on. Unlike Harry, Tom Riddle did not have the Serpitongue ability, but only the Parseltongue ability, speaking to normal snakes. Tom had had to go through a ritual to control the basilisk. Because of the possession, Ginny had that ability and a few more minor ones that she had received from Voldemort.

She had originally been horrified that she had anything in common with Tom Riddle and further horrified to learn that she had gotten it directly from the magic Tom had used over her. Ginevra had eventually overcome those fears though like any brave Gryffindor would and delved into Harry's teachings with the thirst of a Slytherin, determined not to let Tom hurt her or someone else again. The Harry hidden under the well-constructed masks had become like a mentor to her. And then she had slowly fallen in love with the forlorn sequestered being that she had previously idolized for being a hero.

And despite her blood of the Weasleys being present, it was this society and Harry that become her family in, throughout the hard times when the dark paths opened up to her. And despite the thankful presences of Ron and Hermione in Harry's life, both of the operatives knew the unknowing could not understand what was going on. So instead they played along and just tried to keep the two as young as possible for as long as possible.

She had found that there were roughly over 13,000 members, 29 at Hogwarts not including herself. And since she couldn't go on jobs that the freer members could, she stayed close to home and spied on the Order of the Phoenix and the Hogwarts students that would not notice a single figure hidden where they didn't look. She'd need to know what was going on around her and the key players after all. In a way, she was a spy. But she liked to think of herself as well-informed and cautious. One never knew when an enemy would be there to throw something in your way.

Thanks to some brilliant planning if she did say so herself, Ron and Hermione had finally gotten together, the beauty compliments of Victor Krum, the Bulgarian Champion that had competed in the Triwizard Tournament with Harry, Fleur Delacour, and the late Cedric Diggory, Hermione's ego had a nice boost and her thoughts on how she looked were finally affected for the better. She began to see how jealous Ronald acted towards her and had flaunted herself in front of the boys just a bit to get him to act.

Of course, it wasn't Ginny's fault that one of her brothers' Extendable Ears was hidden in plain site in the corridor where Ronald had finally blurtingly asked her out. And it wasn't Harry's fault that Victor Krum had asked Hermione out as a favor to a friend. After all, Victor Krum couldn't possibly be a foreign member of the Serpent Rose, as a star Quidditch player couldn't possibly have a bad childhood. Because of course, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived was from the same kind of fame. (_note the paragraph as strict sarcasm)_

But since we all know that isn't true, we'll skip that part by and move on. It had taken another week of mumbling for the redhead to work up his will to actually ask her, but he had finally done so.

Ginny sat on the window ledge in the Burrow during the summer before her fifth year watching her brother and his girlfriend hurry up and hide behind some trees to do what boys and girls did when they were in a relationship. Turning her head away from what she'd rather not watch, she wondered if the two thought that they were really hiding anything. Of course they were though, she cut that thought off. They had no reason to believe they weren't being discreet.

The whole society had secrecy Occluders in place from the moment they found out about it. Anything pertaining to the group whatsoever would be held under invisible barriers in the mind that anyone intruding would not even notice. When someone (cough Dumbledore and Snape cough) took a peak into their minds, they saw only what the person wanted them to see about the times they were unaccounted for. They saw nothing else.

_On the day of the world gyration_

_the griffin shall have his vengeance_

_Slay the bumblebee_

_Slay the basilisk_

_Everlastingness depends upon the_

_lightning child's mind_

_Protect him and fail_

_Oppose him and fall_

_Help him and rejoice_

_Either way the bumblebee is browbeaten _

_and the basilisk cadaver is arid_

_The griffin will have his counterblow_

_when the storm becomes halcyon_

_But all must be reticent for victory near_

It was not a real prognostication. Soon after Harry had revealed what the old man was hiding from him in second year soon after he got the news, she had made something up. If one were to look into her own, Harry's, Luna's, or even Neville's minds, then they would see a fabricated (though the one looking wouldn't know as such) time when Trelawney jumped them and spit the prophecy out in her buzzed mind. The intruder would never know and be marked when they did so as to find the guilty party.

Harry had created some more of the fabricated happenings in his Golden Boy persona. If Snape took the findings to his master, they would know. And from there, Tom would immediately assume Harry was the _griffin_. He would consider himself the _basilisk _of course and Dumbledore as the _bee _animagus that he didn't know the old man had.

Only a few well chosen people in their society knew what their alternative code names stood for, and Harry's, "Shaded Chimera", was as important to the world as it was to the society, though the every day world had no idea. A chimera is a magical animal combining the lion or griffin, and a snake and/or serpent. It was a pity the beings were only myth. No one knew what one truly looked like as all 'sightings' were just mumbo jumbo. Cunning and brave. Ambitious and honorable. There were very few details on such a creature.

He was only slightly surprised when in the early times of his first year of Hogwarts he looked into a mirror and staring back at him was his animagus form. A morphing creature the most often had wings and the untamable hair. Inside he was deeply happy that there was no sign of the cursed lightning bolt scar. Though the hair was a dead giveaway to a few, he embraced it as part of his ancestry.

He had toyed around with names for Ginny; "Minx" had long turned elegantly into "Sphinx", and "Ginny" or "Ginevra" into "Gin-luv." Sometimes in the deepest parts of their hiding places he referred to her as "Luv", and "Red"-not for her hair but for her temper that was as fatal as his own. She acted offended most of the time as she knew if it was one of her brothers calling her those things she would have been horrified and angered right before she let fly her legendary Bat Bogey Hex. And inside both of them knew she adored the nicknames as they made their way out of his aperture.

Her best friend, Luna Lorena Leonora Lucille Lisana Luisa Lienia Liana Lovegood, often wrote to them under one of her own nicknames, Selena, Serena, or Serenity, while Luna's crush, Neville Franklin Longbottom often wrote in his own, "Sean." Though their various contacts were aware that these were codenames, they knew not much on the true names, as it wasn't safe for anyone really. Assumed names were taken when on jobs and true names were temporarily placed under an occluder until one is off the job, so to speak.

Serpent Roses were aware of how dangerous things could be. They signed on willingly. Their faith in only each other was a testament to their willingness and adherence to their society. They worked beneath the scenes, hidden in the shadows that one of the infamous assassins employed in their society's hypothetical rosters was named for.

No one was any the wiser as the third thing done, after the agreeing and either the _Obliviate _or the Occluder.

She quickly went up to her room as her mother called the boys in for a late lunch. She had some business to finish for the day. The Weasley boys flocked into the kitchen. Even her father came home from work for a good lunch often as he did today. She wondered to herself how some of the orphans who had become like siblings to her were fairing as she did so. It was always hard on her that she couldn't visit them often. Thanks to Tom, there were many more children missing a roof over their heads lately and prayed silently that they would be found by the society soon.

Ginny chewed on Harry's old mention about a very large piece of land hidden for the organization that many hadn't heard of. Very few things were kept from even the grunt workers, as they were a web of family. So this had to be important. Magic in their blood or not, no one deserved to be alone. Dumbledore hadn't ever understood that.

**Number 4 Privet Dr.**

He made it into the window without any of his watchers noticing anything was off. Briefly, he felt a sad pang in his heart that he couldn't confide anything into Moony or Padfoot. But Sirius was dead and Remus was being twirled around on Dumbledore's chess board. But he professionally ignored the familiar ache of moral loss of his Uncles/Godfathers(dogfathers). Instead he focused on his purpose for being back in this despicable neighborhood. The Gollum he had long used for this purpose and was quite familiar with his appearing as he did. It was on the bed but refused to budge to do anything of purpose in this stage.

As he jumped in through the window from the outside he made sure to stay away from the light as not to be seen.

The Gollum wouldn't speak as the vocal cords were sensitive, if it says too much over a small period of time the Gollum would have to be repaired, and that was just an unnecessary burden as far as Harry was concerned. It wouldn't have to speak much at the Dursley's anyway. Dumbledore had ordered everyone not to write him for some strange reason, though most weren't following that order. His beloved Hedwig knew to run only those from Dumbledore to the house on Privet, and the rest she wouldn't allow anyone but the destination person to see. While they thought Harry was letting his pet out, they had no idea that his friend was likely hiding out somewhere or working with him.

Harry stood in front of the Gollum about a foot away from the bed. He traced a rune in the air, which glowed when it was completed, before it promptly lit up and slammed into the Gollum, showing no effects besides the slight change in "Harry." The skin took a small shine for a moment as Harry's magic left a signature within the Gollum and changed it temporarily enough to easily fool the watching Order and the Order members that the being often yelled at by the Dursleys was Harry Potter.

When he was done, Harry left the Gollum to its purpose as he snuck out of the window the way he'd come with a sigh. He needed to get back to work. With is unseen departure, the ever faithful Hedwig flew out of the window with many hidden letters nestled in her deadly talons. Her sharp eyes easily spotted those hiding from view, especially the wolf her Harry-wizard thought of as the last of his dogfathers.

As the magic sealed itself into the Gollum back in the house, the magic connected to Harry Potter altered enough, and if one was watching, they would have seen the brief glow of Hedwig's altered eyes glow the eerie Avada Kedavra green of Harry Potter's eyes. In another house a snake awoke for but a second as it's eyes glowed even more unnaturally then usual for a quick moment before she curled back to sleep. In a house named "The Burrow" in a country area of Ottery St. Catchpole, a young redhead working on letters snapped her head up as a feeling let itself known inside of her. Her light brown eyes changed and reflected the view of the famous Killing Curse. And then less then a moment later her brown orbs went back to normal, the snowy owls turning back to the pet-blue that added on to her ethereal look.

Hedwig's blue snow eyes might have in fact reminded many of Luna Lovegood's blue glassing orbs that seemed to never stop exploring what none of them would ever come to see, stuff they could never imagine filling the young girl's mind.

Those many beings the Gollum fooled thought themselves knowledgeable. They didn't notice the odd habits it had of rarely blinking and never really sleeping. Upon its face the shape of its eyes and the makeshift scar rearranged themselves to Harry's wishes by the time he was long gone. It would be many weeks before it would need to be remagicked.

_...In the darkness of the night that had become his world he found it so laughably ironic that as Tom Marvolo Riddle 'got even' with society by destroying roofs and families, while they, they of the Serpent Rose, banded together to survive and pick up the cracked pieces that the sheep of the world pretended didn't exist and built anew... while Tom Riddle destroyed authority, they either were it or went around it..._


	5. Chapter 4

**Serpent Rose**

**Chapter 4**

**Unknown**

It was dark again, a crescent folding into a new moon. There was little light in this part of the city, like many areas deserted by the upper echelon that seemed to control the world. Beggars were many in this area but nil within a block of every radius from him. He was quiet, silent as could be as he moved through shadows, a Shadow in the ways of the world. He seemed to understand what he was doing, flowing from spot to spot as if a leaf on water, flowing as the rain falls entering one mass of no-lightness and coming out in a completely different place. A Shadow Walker some deity thousand of years ago deemed people like himself. It wasn't a magic that flowed through blood.

No one really knew what it was or where it came from. His very own belief centered on need and what magic will do for one's need. He had started out as a wanting child, alone and aching for his lost family. He was a Serpent Rose assassin, one of many who had extra senses and photographic memory. He knew of four Hogwarts students within their organization that had similar mind attributes. It was surprising that only one of them still at the school was actually a Ravenclaw, but then Slytherin built on knowledge as well.

He slid through an undesignated path as if he was meant to walk it, and maybe he was. But he did not believe in fate. Though Divinations could see ahead or behind or in the exact second, it was only for things on paths that had a large percent at coming true. Some seers saw things, things that were meant to be heeded as warnings. Others saw things that needed to be helped. Some saw things that could happen while people that were with them fought to keep it true and others tried to change it. He hated the practice because it was all a hoax in his opinion. Sometimes things would happen and visions and signs and warnings might help someone.

But he couldn't help but remember what they cause some people. Harry Potter had been thrown into a life that was not fit to live by a batty old man because some batty old seer proclaimed him something. Voldemort had been thrown from his body and decimated so Harry Potter had in fact killed the 'dark lord' with 'the dark lord knows not,' though what exactly that was no one else seemed to know either... except Harry Potter and he wasn't talking to anybody about that. The Dumbledore mind intrigued him but he was careful not to let that want to enter and find out what made it tick. Voldemort had died, and though his spirit had not remained in Hades or whatever one will believe about the afterlife, that dark soul had truly left this plain for a while.

He flexed his fingers as he spotted his prey exit a building with no signs of residence or activity. It was a regular hideout used by criminals and the Death Eaters knew not to gather there more then once. His eyes sharpened and for a moment through the shadows one might have seen glowing green eyes almost unnatural, maybe like a cats. Was it out of anger? Anticipation? One does not think of why one might enjoy the kill. Or maybe it was the hunt, a lion stalking its elk or a snake circling its oblivious mouse in the dark greens of a forest.

An echo of the old seemed to come from his as the woman in front of him skipped and twisted and the air, insanity permeating from her. She sensed someone ahead, a simple bum she thought, and she stalked forward, ready to pounce like a Crookshanks at a Wormtail. _Smart cat that one_, Shadow thought to himself.

He only wished he could have done something about Wormtail but he couldn't tip his hand. Harry was being manipulated on the outside and the SRs were helping him escape tricky lemoned fingers. Any acting on the knowledge of Wormtail would have given the whole watching world the knowledge that there was another faction.

The bum ran for his life from the crazy look in the woman's eyes, much like the hags had earlier at Shadow's glare. She laughed insanely in the bum's wake, the vagabond long gone now and Shadow watching her, interested in what it was he saw. He saw a lot of insanity now-a-days and he was always interested in something knew. He liked to learn like anyone else looking for a way out of the messed up parts of the universe. It was what he did anyhow, learn.

She leaped now, kicking off of a wall now. And then she sneezed. As if feeling ashamed and embarrassed of her self, her face turned cold, much difference compared to the carefree twisted insanity that had inhabited her earlier life two seconds before. It was like she thought that such duties like breathing were not useful to someone like her and she should be free with all of the bloody roses but without the allergies in mind.

He wondered if things like the muggle 'Allergies' was really something that came everywhere or if maybe Bella's history wasn't as clear to the DE's she worked with, and much more matching to Voldemort's. He stopped his tangent-prone monologue and went back to his discussion

She started hissing to herself in disgust- no not Parseltongue or Serpitongue, but long angry grunts that reminded him of the steam engine to the Hogwarts Express as they jerked from her mouth. The lengthened thin lips that were common on beautiful Black females, also there in Narcissa Malfoy, Andromeda Tonks, and Nymphadora Tonks, accentuated her words, angry scales on a serpent nearby feeling the loud unsettling vibrations, preparing to attack. Shadow soothed his bonded and let her down on the floor much like doing to the business man.

The serpent flowed from around him, uncoiling from around his neck and the parts underneath his black shirt. The eyes of the serpent watched the insanity in the Black-Lestrange woman as if scaling the weight of water, and then giving a small satisfied tongue swipe, no hissing coming from her mouth yet.

Shadow knew that she was one of Voldemort's Inner Circle, so he did not know how good she was at picking up hissing. The differences though, were there and he felt calm as he directed his friend to the other side of the alley, along ways to go before they reached anywhere important.

And like his last assassination, and all of the killings before that, the lights around the mad woman flickered as if knowing the next part of the life saga was not to be seen.

Though crazy, most of her was still human. And because she was still human she had instincts and flaws. One of her inner bads, though not on her list, was her over confidence in herself. But another was her fear that someone was always watching her and out to get her, which someone was but she didn't know that. But her ultimate mistake that would truly cost her the demise of her body and the retirement of her soul was when the lights flickered, barely staying on, and some primal part in her that fell to the paranoia that someone was behind her made her stop in her tracks and turn around.

If Fate had had any hope that she would have survived, it was now gone and the Lady of Paths moved away from Bellatrix Black-Lestrange giving up on any life that woman might have been allowed to lead.

Shadow **would** have her.

Bellatrix turned with a fierce look. Behind her she found only darkness in the flickering light from the street lamp.

She saw something out of the corner of her eye and turned again with her wand raised. But before she could think or mumble out a simple spell something from her wand, something was on her and there was a pain in the side of her arm. She was out cold before she knew that she was down.

* * *

**Unknown**

The first thing that came back to her was the pain. It was sharp and she would have gasped from the quickness of its coming if she had been able to. Frozen, she tried to sense her surroundings, but so many _cruciatus_es and killings of her own without a workout seemed to have dulled her senses greatly. But then again, maybe it was the spell on her.

She breathed in calmly, anger pushed back only enough to think calmly, though her breathing seemed restricted and after some deliberation she could not figure out why. She remembered coming out of the meeting house in one of the weekly randomized abandoned buildings that were easy to find in England. She had discussed some of her Lord's orders with some of the lower Death Eaters. He had wanted them to find something for him called the 'Hand of The Lore Giantess,' whatever that was. She would work the sycophants while they did all the work and she would play.

She had left eventually in high spirits excited to be going out for some more torture until her surroundings had taken her attention, and she remembered a type of hissing that wasn't really hissing. She had been around the Dark Lord talking to his precious Nagini enough to be able to identify it.

And then she was out cold.

She could move her fingers in her right hand now, the left still cold and still as stone. After a few minutes the odd feeling in her finally made sense and she discovered that she was on her stomach, explaining why she couldn't breathe all to well. Slowly, she struggled to prop her chin up so that she could get her oxygen.

There was a stone hanging on a chain from her neck, lazuli purple that her husband had given her. He said it was to warn him if she was in trouble when in fact she knew it was to improve her own ability to conceive. They hadn't really tried before though they had sex often. He wanted an heir she knew, but she preferred her fun in _crucio_ing the little muggles. But she was a pureblood and would not dare lessening her chances. Purebloods survived by creating heirs, and though her brother-in-law could also provide Lestrange heirs, she herself need to get pregnant with a male child before him in order to keep the Ladyship in her favor.

The chain was currently smashing itself between her breasts, cutting slightly into her skin, but not enough to cause a thrill at bloodshed. She loved the scent of blood and how it flowed. Though she was particularly fond of the cruciatus, she often resorted to the cutting hex and other little bits and oddities from her wand.

She already lost the chance at the Black Ladyship when Sirius had refused her proposal, though she had never really had feelings for him; she _hadn't_.

The thoughts of Sirius brought her to other thoughts of him, running while a school boy with his Gryffindor friends while pulling some prank on her beloved house. She hated him, hated him for ruining her chance at the Black name.

Because she didn't love him.

A small feeling made itself known in the back of her neck, like a needle that was just sometimes piercing her flesh, pushing and letting go, pushing in and letting go. She couldn't get her thoughts away from that needle feeling and her insane one-track mind finally tried to stray from the little pinch of ongoing, infuriating not-pain betraying her person to thoughts of Sirius. Most of her skin did not feel anything, though two fingers in her left hand twitched some, but they too had fallen under the unfeeling numbness that had overcome her.

Tension built and then let go. Over and over again her mind tracked the movement of that which took in most of her attention. The insanity in her was spurred on, moving in spirals and waves. She couldn't move or feel anything but this. And it was then the most horrible thoughts came to her.

She was helpless, and not in the chained-to-the-bed-by-husband helpless but the I-am-screwed kind of helpless.

Her mind tried to retreat but she was unsuccessful save for the thoughts that met her every time the needle feeling pricked her and then let away over and over again even when she could swear on her magic that she could not take anymore. She was already insane.

Anger spurred in her and all she could think was _I HATE HIM! I HATE HIM! SIRIUS, MAY HE ROT ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF HELL! I DON'T LOVE HIM!! I don't love him I don't love him IhatehimIdon'tlovehimIdon'tlovehimI'dontloveSiriusOrionBlack... _because in the end, he really was all she thought about.

* * *


	6. Chapter 5

**Serpent Rose **

**Chapter 5 **

**

* * *

**

Longbottom Manor

Neville Frances Longbottom was famous for his explosions in his Potions class. Lately he was also known as one of the five friends of Harry Potter that had gone to the DOM at the end of the last school year, though most everyone was unaware of what had gone on down there. Most were under the impression that he had nothing extraordinary about him except for a remarkably green thumb.

The ability with plants was not something that most witches and wizards held in high regard. And as such, he was considered a below average wizard that had a good knack for plants but a bad knack in everything else. He was considered somewhat stupid and uninteresting. Because of his baby fat from his young age (which had half been muscles underneath that) made him look like a baby from the beginning.

He wasn't exactly the spryest person, but he had a good head on his shoulders and the clumsiness of his self was over-exaggerated highly. He had more skill at Potions then his grades showed. With Snape staring over his shoulder, what was he supposed to do? He was a well-rounded boy, though he did have a problem with forgetting things. His grades weren't Os but they weren't below As. The fact that he wasn't the forgotten Goyle/Crabbe triplet went unnoticed. He was an above-average student, though only his tests showed such a thing.

Harry's grades did the same thing, he knew. He didn't do particularly well on assignments but he usually O'd the tests. As it was illegal to show test scores to anyone that wasn't the parent, student, or the teacher who had given the tests, no one else really noticed. Besides, it was written into the teaching contracts, though Snape definitely defiled those laws if Harry's _Occlumency lessons_ were anything to go by. There were secrecy spells over such a thing somewhat similar to the Occluders the Serpent Roses frequently used, meaning if someone had looked into minds through legillimency, the grades wouldn't be found.

His Grandmother Annie Guilimelda Longbottom was currently down in the back garden talking with his uncle Tonus Geraldo Longbottom and Tonus's son, Neville's cousin, Germani Franklin Longbottom. It was times like this that Neville was fully happy with his name.

Neville's uncle was a person he didn't have a happy familial relationship. He was his uncle, but both of them had become his tormenters. He hadn't consciously had to show his magic, you see. Thinking that maybe it meant he had none, everyone started to do things so that he would show it. When a child is emotional accidental magic is an often occurrence. Sometimes his grandmother would ask him to do things, like get him something from the other side of the manor in hope that maybe he would summon it.

His uncle and cousin though teased him miserably. He could remember his uncle pushing him in the pond before he could swim and hanging him out the window by his feet. None of it had caused magic though. In the pond, he was lucky enough to have upper body strength, and pushed off of the bottom to the side before he pulled himself out. He never told his grandmother though, thinking that maybe he really was weak.

His grandmother had found his uncle hanging poor Neville out of the window, and Neville would never forget that experience; he learned his grandmother really did love him, afterwards. She had sent her son out of the manor, not disowning him, but not allowing him time to Neville underneath her Frank's roof. He would be Lord Longbottom by the time he came of age since his father was out of use. She stood in his stead until his seventeenth birthday.

She knew nothing about how Harry had found Neville afterwards, out of shape and saddened about his life. Nothing had been good for him. He was thankful for a roof over his head and food on his table. He loved his Gran and wished to make her proud. But he had no confidence in himself whatsoever. So in the light of the moon when and where they wouldn't be seen or heard or tracked, Harry had helped him out. Of course, he didn't exactly know who he was until about a year before Hogwarts started. Boy was his Gran happy when he got that welcome to Hogwarts. His uncle had scowled and stomped off, grotesque thoughts flowing freely from him.

Anything bright orange had scared him as a child, and they would never guess it was because that was the color of the cruciatus curse. He wasn't afraid of the curse but of the memory. When he was a child his mother Alice Jeanette Longbottom nee Vector, and his father, Franklin Colani Longbottom were tortured to insanity by Rudolphus Lestrange, his wife Bellatrix Black-Lestrange, and his brother Rebasten Lestrange. Not one of the adults really knew that he had witnessed his parents last aware moments.

He had finally gotten those memories off his chest with his friends in the SR. Harry's own experience much resembled his own, though Harry's parents had been murdered.

If he had wanted, he could have pulled a Dementor up or even a bright orange light as his boggart fear. But he had to put up a different kind of persona, and used the fact that his blunders in Potions had apparently affected him differently as others. Plus, he had just wanted to see the greasy git in his grandmother's muggle or witchery clothes.

Currently, he was in Longbottom Manor. Though one might not think of him as one to disobey his grandmother, he couldn't help but walk into a little conversation that had to do with himself, could he? Over the banister he heard his grandmother, and his uncle discussing his person.

"He's like a lame horse. You might as well put him out on the streets like one. There's no useful magic in him-"

"He's not stupid." anyone else but his Grams and he knew they would be yelling at the nerve. "He might not have any sense in Potions and Astronomy like you, my younger son, but he has a good hand at other things. He loves Herbology-"

"What is he going to accomplish with Mastery in Herbology. A green thumb and a loose finger? He'll trip all over himself befo-"

"Don't you even consider remarking like that against your nephew! Frank's son is a good boy, not a lout like-"

"Frank-Frank-Frank. Everything is about Franklin mother. And now that Franklin is in the Psycho ward-"

"Tonus! Don't you insult your brother like that! _He _would never do something like that to his own brother. Neville-"

"He's stupid! He has no sense up here" he knocked on his head, "no brains. My son is smart, has O's in both Potions and Herbology, as well as Astronomy." He would have gone on again if his mother hadn't cut into his speech like they had been doing back and forth for a while.

Neville rolled his eyes at his too-quiet cousin some. He would never understand how he could just sit by and let someone go on like that. But then, he was a Gryffindor. Though he had long ago figured he would be a Hufflepuff, he knew that Germani would definitely be in Ravenclaw. Brains for books but no sense or brawn what-so-ever.

He would have gone in to Hufflepuff too if it wasn't for his Gran remarking one day about how his father had been so happy in the Gryffindor tower. Some things were just more comfortable when following in someone's footsteps.

"Your son, my youngest grandson, has been home schooled and now has no social promise. Neville is not only adequate in 'advanced cooking' because some dumb-arse lackey of Dumbledore's whom is definitely a big piece of work no matter how skilled he is at Potions!"

Okay... so maybe he hadn't given Germani enough credit and the boy _was;_ he just did not know how to do otherwise. Great, now he pitied young Germani.

Just then the floo opened up and Neville was ready to boot down to his private garden in the back.

Unspeakable Wash Anton Matheson popped up his head through the logs in the fireplace, and bowed when Nev's Gran came through the doorway standing by her only walking son as if everything was peachy. It was a handy strength that many purebloods needed to remain in control for long, Neville contemplated. He himself had slipped into that role since Harry had freed him from most of his blocks. He needed to be able to act in front of Dumbledore as if his maturing magic pushed to blocks away.

Silently, he tapped his foot mentally, running out of patience for waiting for it to be safe.

The Unspeakable's head popped through and then said respectively, "Madam Longbottom. I don't mean to be rude, but I was told I was to escort your grandson, Neville, to Olivander's for a new wand."

Stony faced and only slightly happy about the interruption, she hated to fight with her family, she replied, "My Neville has his father's wand, and he"

The Unspeakable coughed to politely cut her off and show no offence before saying, "Beg your pardon ma'am, but that wand was destroyed in the incident at the end of the school year along with another. Your son's wand probably wouldn't have fit him anyway." Before she could say something else, Wash Anton Matheson blurted out, "Just because a child is the offspring of two parents doesn't really mean that the parents' wands would really fit well with a child." Silently he hoped young Longbottom would forgive him for calling him a child, but he went on, "I myself have a totally different wand core and wood then my parents who both have birch wood."

Frowning at herself for not realizing something like that, her son had strayed her thoughts, Madam Longbottom had blinked and a pensive look covered her face as she thought, showing no weaknesses. The point made itself in her head. It was totally likely that one parent wand would not fit their child's. After all, though Frank had that same core as she did (unicorn hair), her wood was from an odd combination deciduous palm.

Nodding her head in acceptance, she relaxed, as there was no threat of this person. She had heard of this Unspeakable, calm and nice, though his work was usually information gathering. He had been a Ravenclaw while in school.

"May I come through?" He asked, fully taught in laws and pureblood law. He didn't want to offend a woman like Annie Longbottom, a rough protector if there ever was one.

She nodded and was still as the Unspeakable clearly said "Longbottom Manor!" while tossing a handful of floo powder into the fireplace as he went through, landing expertly as he was taught.

He came through and bowed politely to the woman as he was a guest in her home, and trying to ignore the younger son behind her that was a pompous git by the look of it. If he had come two seconds earlier he might have even heard the yelling from the other room.

"Neville is in his private garden. It's over this way." She pointed, and he moved to the side to let her by before following her as close as her son and grandson did. At least the boy didn't seem as bad. He was proven correct when the boy looked at him out of the corner of his eye and rolled his own light brown orbs. His father was a git and he knew it.

Privately the Unspeakable filed the information away that the boy wasn't as pompous but just enough a mean to be a git. He followed Germani's father like Germani followed his father like his father followed his father's mother. (LOL! Tongue twister!)

Up the staircase that led down to the floo and lounge area, Neville Longbottom stepped quietly and quickly through his own area going a separate way then his grandmother was. Two secret entrances and paths opened to him and he was in his garden seconds before he would have to hear his grandmother entering the hallway behind his garden.

When he was five years old, he had long been showing his green thumb. Being near his room, this place had been mostly unused and he had gone out often to try and help the old plants to survive. What were there were only simple flowers but they hadn't been cared for in a long time, so they had been wilting away into nothing. His grandmother had found him working there one day, and instead of scolding him like he had become used to, she had simply allowed him to have the area and prepared some proper tools and books for him to go through. She had bought some seeds and seedling plants for him, and he had allowed the green life to thrive, providing plenty of ingredients hidden away in the flora of flowers and herbal plants.

Currently there was a trellis wall reaching the end of the hallway inside. The space itself was just enough to let the sun in as much as he needed while providing him enough light to work all day if he wished. The size of the space his feet would walk was about the size of two master bedrooms, not including the side garden plots or the second level plot covering the sides where he could plant aplenty from the height of a table.

Currently the trellis had handsome ropes of a flora called Heavens Reef that looked like apple shaped grapes but where in fact twice as large. Instead of being picked and eaten round, the bulbs would be covered in water when brilliant red and then sprout a layered flower twice as large as the bulb. The petals eventually turned into scale-like rocky pieces reminiscent of bark. It could be buried like a seed or shredded into a fertilizer, it would help grow into the same bulb and then flower, but when grown from the ground instead of from a vine, there would be no bark-like hardening but small needles. When the needles were heated precisely together, they would vine. When shredded also, it was a rare herbal ingredient someone had named Honoree.

It was dead useful in Potions and particularly potent. It was so rare that someone who was able to grow it could probably make ten thousand galleons for a bag of the stuff the size of what most would find for ninety-nine cent seeds at the local hardware stores with adjoining garden plots. Neville was proud to say he was one of four in all of Europe that had been able to grow it, nine in the world. Madame Sprout was one of them, and the other two were also particularly remembered Masters in Herbology. Other than Madame Sprout, who he knew was thirty seven, the other two were also women but older than sixty.

Heavens Reef was also spread over all of his walls, though not every bit of brick. There were other vinery plants and things on the walls along with those planted on the edges of the ground that climbed up to meet them.

His grandmother had never looked at this space, and he loved her for it. There were a few illegal pieces that he'd rather her not see, though they were well hidden among the numerous growths. He had used many of them and was sure he would use more of them. There was even a small section he had silenced off in a corner area with a small shield unseen, to keep them unseen, were four Mandrakes.

There was color and growth. Anyone to enter his private area would know it was one of a Master. But he had it shielded to keep all others out, unless they were of the Serpent Rose, or course.

Quickly, he stuck his hands into some dirt and threw some dirt on his muggle work clothes to show that he was working, though the clothing was plenty stained already, and then spread some quick water to act as perspiration when he showed himself.

"Neville dear, Would you come in here please?" He heard his grandmother call. She respected what privacy he had. For that he was incredibly thankful. It helped to reinforce the fact that she truly did care for him.

"Coming Gran," he replied loud enough for them to hear before setting down some pot to calm him, and wiping his hands on a damp cloth before entering the manor and wiping his feet on a mat. "Yes?" he asked, feigning his ignorance.

"Neville, this gentleman is Wash Matheson. He will be taking you to find a new wand in a few moments. Go get dressed Neville, as you don't want to show yourself as anything but proper."

"Yes, Gran." he said, acting as a little mouse and scurrying off to find some nice robes and letting the bull out.

That day he acquired a Willow wand with a hair from a Dreygin, a dog-like creature that only came out at night and only hunted on full moons. It was a respectable animal, though considered dark by the ministry. He had often wanted one as a pet as their presence was said to provide a pollen to promote life. His Gran had been surprised but intrigued all the same.

Neville couldn't wait to try some new spells. He knew immediately that this wand fit him much better than his father's tool ever had.

* * *

A man sat at his counter in his home with his shoulders propped against the hard grain. He rubbed his head, feeling the coarse hair splayed atop his head that was just beginning to recede. His family was out doing other things: shopping, seeing friends, working. So now he took the time to get his pieces back together against the table. In his early years after Hogwarts, he had been an Unspeakable, and his wife had joined him in the same program, though she didn't stay in too long. She had wanted a family and so had he. But Voldemort had come walking into the picture obscurely, and things had changed. She had stayed home to protect their family while he had been hard at work.

He had broken out of the program years ago though, to take on different pastures in his time. His family had been quite well for years. Now, it wasn't falling apart per say, but he could sense things changing.

Of course, it must have just skipped their minds that, once in the program, an Unspeakable is never really out of it, though the business might now be too low to count for everything. By then, he had been out of that profession when he joined Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, and the food had already poisoned his thoughts. He thought that Dumbledore was a great man.

And that lie he could not rid himself of haunted him in those few minutes of realization.

When his family got back home, he would forget about his musings on these dark skeletons of the great Albus Dumbledore's; and he would be a father as he had been for many years now. But something on the edge of his mind always irritated him, begging for attention he'd never physically be able to provide at any will.

* * *

TBC

I know it's been a while since I've updated this story, but if you've paid any attention to my profile, then I just try to push something out at least every week. I fail, but that's why I'm doing this. Because it's sitting on my harddrive and Im paranoid. Crap. I jinxed myself. Wish me luck... anyone else realize i only have like...5 reviews? What's up with that?

Anyways, it's short, centered more on Neville and a good man who should be obvious. Later...


	7. Chapter 6

**Serpent Rose**

**Chapter 6**

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**Diagon Alley**

There was a shop in Diagon Alley which was being planned, organized, and sorted out. Though it wasn't yet open the owners and creators had great hopes for their new 'baby of their blood, sweat and tears.' The main room-shopfront that customers would browse and then travel towards the back to pay for their new odds and ends was only the main room. Bright colors accented displays and many-muggleborns more than purebloods-would soon exit the shop pleased with purchases but also assured of the colorblindedness of the pureblood lot, however fun a few of the accepting were.

From the door behind the register was a medium room where they mostly stored their things not quite ready for sale or display. Stairs led above the shop where the little den sat, breached between two other shops. It often housed the owners when they did not wish to go home; it was charmed with a large notice-me-not that helped to conceal attractive things like explosions and other loud noises. However, the true magic happened at yet another room shuffled behind the 'flat' and between the tall shops to the right and left of the abode. The makeshift workshop was where everything would be prepped, mapped out and created. Small items that were not difficult to create could be put together en masse.

Much to the staff of Hogwart's and their grades' disbelief, the Weasley twins were quite brilliant. They needed to be with all of their experiments. The ambition of schooling, to their mother's horror, was just not something either twin found appealing. Like the Marauders before them, any true magic they came to learn and rely on happened with self-study and the odd book not accounted for in the Hogwarts vast library. All they ever wanted to do was create a joke shop entrepreneurship and live from there. It had been practically planned out for them since they were born, and their secret third partner, (who shall not be named as it is quite obvious who it is), was all for it.

And here they were, bathing in the idea of future galleons and laughing hysterically from the potions fumes, something too that neither learned in the classroom... not that they would have been able to.

What most had no idea about the newly-opening shop was the very back-back room on the bottom story. Though not in the original schematics of the building, there was a small room cut out of the original stone masonry the shops of Diagon Alley were chiseled from. A large hole led down a set of ladders and then through an underground tunnel leading far away from the Bank that was renowned for its underground vaults.

Well, _he _hadn't divulged their secrets and _they _had kept everything about him relating to them mostly a secret. He never told their mother or anyone else that they hadn't truly tried in school because their life had been planned out by them long ago. They hadn't told anyone about the way their 'golden boy' was human with a dark side and a hidden side that even the infallible Dumbledore was aware of.

They were two, or one depending how an outsider looked at it, who were aware that their secret third investor had followed in Harry's Father's and Dogfathers' footsteps in the honorable art of pranking. _His_ sleuthing things had just been more planned out and unprejudiced then most. And unsigned. Never let anyone tell you a good mystery is advantageous to spreading all suspiciousns from one.

They admired him and considered him a Marauder of the second generation, in which they also knew he had accomplices, though they still couldn't figure out who. Not that they would voice it but their younger brother was _way _too immature and Hermione was _way _too into respecting authority figures to play off any worthwhile pranks. And according the the media and all visible gossip, Miss Granger and the Boy-who-eats were Harry Potter's only friends.

There was a shop in Diagon Alley that was being planned up, one thousand galleons being spent to live their dream. And in the back they kept a small secret room like they had promised with a hole to a spooky shop two miles away in Knockturn Alley and a bunker for someone to sleep in, which they were _never_ to peak into when there were customers. He had known better to ban them from the room altogether. That was just inviting more trouble.

Often, Gred and Forge Weasley often pondered what was going on with Harry and their baby sister. They had slowly witnessed the hidden beauty bloom beneath their parent's noses behind closed doors while no one was there to witness that they had as spies. The plots of twins would be an effort to break for anyone it seemed. And they would be in the path of Death Eaters; to destroy them before they themselves could be destroyed.

**

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**

Little Hangleton. Riddle Manor.

A plot in Little Hangleton hidden away by magic was currently being used as a hideaway. The Riddle Mansion had long gone unused as his mother was dead and Tom Riddle was the last of the line. There were bodies in front of the throne in which sat a hideous figure with red snake-like eyes and a bald body that somehow managed to burlesque some barbarian snake, slinking its way around but not in fact doing much of the work itself. When it spoke there was an undercurrent of hissing that must have been left over from the ritual change when he had attempted to gain his animagus years ago. But because he had used a ritual and not took the time to do so calmly, he had failed and now was no longer able to gain a form.

The handsome young figure of Tom Riddle was now long gone as well as what was left of his sanity. There was a ghastly creature bowed to from a hundred people at a time, people wearing white masks and dark long cloaks to hide identities from even themselves. This group of people would leave a visage in the sky of a skull with a snake in its mouth. They were not people. They were minions to one single not-person. Many did not realize this, and in their search for power, they got themselves killed when they singled themselves out in order to attempt to gain favor. Only a few were allowed this luxury -and even then, not often.

Voldemort's inner circle consisted of seven people: Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Black-Malfoy, Severus Snape, Tom's ever faithful 'Wormtail', Rudolphus Lestrange, Rebasten Lestrange, and his favored whore, Bellatrix Black-Lestrange. Many suspected that Bellatrix was giving the horrifically ugly 'master' a _helping hand_ so to speak. It became a barfing contest when whispered about. The first overheard was automatically _crucio'_d until he was only able to join the Longbottoms in St. Munigos.

Currently, Tom was hosting a torture-palooza with a few muggles, two already dead and simply stiff on the ground. One was being 'enjoyed' by many males, as she was quite beautiful, though young. The other, the father, was subjected to multiple little play curses, such as the cutting curse and the cording curse in which body parts and bits of skin were wound together to make cord. Originally, "_adligo funis_" possibly with a "_vinculum_" on the end for imprisoning victims. To himself, Voldemort jokingly wondered if he could make a fortune in selling book covers and other things with human skin imbedded in the materials.

He quickly sapped the mind of a young girl of almost eight years old and then simply imperio'd her to make lanyards out of the skin coming off of the father and daughter. It was a slow scalping of the man who must have been in immense pain but was still alive, though barely. At the edge of the precipice of life, Tom watched him; for a man who had commited himself to conquering Europe and leading a quest for immortality, the act of death fascinated him. At the edge of oblivion he would watch and try to pice together what it was that truly killed.

He couldn't care what he looked like but the crossover into death was truly the only thing he feared, and at the same time was that excitement as the soul left and traveled elsewhere.

Many Death Eaters stood around, hooting him or others on, watching the fun. As if in a carnival for dunking tables, there were two men that had fallen into a bowl of needles and rusty nails. Across one of the straight walls were pinned bodies, many kept alive for future needs. When an overexcited Death Eater spewed all over the floor in his entertainment, Voldemort simply crucio'd him until he had lost control of his bowls, and then simply Avada Kedavra'd him for messing up his floor fun further.

Nearby lackeys faked smiles or simply leered at the loss of another member, the death creeping their ambition along to heights that weren't really reasonable. As young first years at Hogwarts or wherever they were schooled, most would be appalled at their actions. Others would just nod as they had always been like that from their parents' teachings.

A sharp pang from his forehead attracted Voldemort's attention. There was no scar and nothing the minions acknowledged, but he knew that his side of the bond was being used for something, possibly to hide something. Though what the little golden boy griffin would have to hide was curious.

Tom simply went back to his games when he thought at it, knowing naively that Harry J. Potter was under Dumbledore's control somewhere hidden under wards he himself couldn't touch. But he also knew that these 'Dursleys' were very much similar to the orphanage caretakers and they hated magic. He knew that the boy had been beaten as a child, a reason for his current height.

Snidely, he thought to himself how the boy could have improved his body with potions, like he himself had done; but as it was too far along in the aging process, it wouldn't do much. The old man hadn't even trained him. Merlin knows that the majority of the Defense Professors chosen at Hogwarts were phony, faulty in that they had never really been able to go for more than a single year; the Hogwarts curse.

How that infuriating boy managed to get away from him and his followers he did not know, but the boy had some annoying luck. It wouldn't last too long if he had anything else to say about it. The boy wouldn't make a fool of Lord Voldemort again. Harry Potter was just a child and if he were in front of Tom M. Riddle at this moment he would have been crushed in the once-human's bare hands.

In reality, he'd already be gone again, as Voldemort and Dumbledore were completely unprepared and oblivious of the many that were not simply twiddling, but were moving right under their noses.

Another man had just landed in the large barrel of small pointy objects, and his mind reverted back to the party. Nothing could be hidden from him. The feeling of excitement in him about all of this death was equally mirrored on the other side of the bond, but for a different reason. He ignored it.

He called for his inner circle, later, but Bella did not come. Bella did not answer her call.

**

* * *

**

Forbidden Forest

The forest was dark, filled with creatures living and unknown. There were ingredients in the foliage though, and a Master such as himself did not go out to buy things one could get fresher and cheaper from the ground. The crescent moon was bowed and when he looked up there was a glimmer of the fishing boy on the moon. Information, he needed.

A Hippogriff that wasn't Buckbeak made its way towards him. He bowed and lowered his head as such a beast of the animalia kingdom showed him respect, he was cheered. He gave it all the same, body lumbering forward in a makeshift bow. His hands and makeshift backpack were filled with bits of ingredients he would need, and then plenty of feed for the animals and bits the house elves had ordered.

Coming towards him, Marack (Merrec) walked to the burly man with the knotted beard. His chest rose up in a noble jester, a mark of confidence on the creature. His large hands reached up to pet the part-bird friendly like and he withered some feather in-between his fingers. A picking of young fur fell off. Marack was losing much of his baby fur. He was still quite young, but Marack was a good flier. He'd travel to the destination unnoticed; inner invisibility wards worked wonders, though even dragons had been found eventually.

He talked to the young creature, patting its head reassuringly and feeding it some freshly dead wild ferret from his pack. A letter came out of his pocket wrapped in black silk. Sending it on, Hagrid made his own way back to his hut. Back to his starry eyes and loose lips. Back to the fake world he had been tricked into and the world he had learned to fear. But he was also going to the hut on Hogwarts grounds where he had learned the truth and found how to fight the coming darkness and the ones that were already there.

He thought back to the day long ago where he had done the wrong thing without actually knowing it. The potion had long warned off in his giant's blood and he was no longer under the affects of the Headmaster's manipulations. When Sirius had come up to him, he had tried to tell him, but he was so drugged up on whatever Dumbledore had slipped into his tea then that his mouth had moved and spoken to its own machinations, and his brain could do nothing. He held baby Potter away from his rightful guardian, and now there was nothing to do but apologize. It would have to wait though, as Lupin had no idea about the truth yet, and Sirius, Black had no chance, as he was dead now.

He held out some seed for a coming raven that dropped a letter in his beard before landing on his arm to eat some seed with bits of fresh meat mixed in. Using a move Harry Potter had long taught him to sweep birds off; he swung his arm down and then up-and-out. The bird was not harmed unless one counted having to regain its balance. It got a snack and did its duty. It was going back to its master now.

Quietly making his way to his lightened wood cabin, he avoided a sneaky bush and had to keep himself from glaring at another bird that really didn't mean to bug him with his alluring _words of wisdom_ like it did.

**

* * *

**

TBC.

I apologize for the long wait for both SR and anything. I haven't written anything since 'To Survive.' Partly its because I've been making pics more than fics, though they aren't very good, and partly its because I just started college. Congrats to me and anyone else in that type of hell. Gods bedamned online classes couldn't even tell us what books we needed till two weeks later and by then the prices are jocked up so high I cannot afford it. Stupid pieces of Pi-gu!


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